Beneath

Beneath the facade,
the guts have been torn out,
so much that was once beautiful
is now dust and rubble,

a lonely place,
dimly lit in the night,
behind the curtain
that no one dares to,

or cares to look behind.
The facade is much more pleasant,
less messy,
less transitory,

easier to grasp
and requiring no patience.

But, see it or not,
there is work going on here,
rebuilding, recreation,
and more,

redemption.

About this poem

A week or so ago when I was in New York City, I wandered the streets before my appointment in the dark and fog. I peered in one door of a magnificent marble building and saw the picture below. I took the picture, knowing, sooner or later, that there was a poem in it.

Tom